Aftermath
by Celinarose
Summary: Not all those who fought and survived the War were awarded recognition. Some received the rewards of cold stares and exile.


_Tap, Tap, tap._

The constant tapping sounds caught Amelia's attention, and she turned to look at the source of the noise.

A man was ambling along the pavement, his cane hitting the ground before every step to check for any obstacles in his path. The white cane and dark goggles led Amelia to infer that the man could not see. It did not explain, however, why the man looked so familiar, even from some distance away. As he drew closer, Amelia's eyes widened with recognition and shock.

For perhaps the first time in her life, she faltered.

"John?" she called out softly, almost wishing he wouldn't respond.

The man stopped dead in his tracks. He frowned for a moment, and then shook his head, as though convincing himself he was just hearing things.

Amelia called out again, louder this time.

The man turned to the sound of her voice, and Amelia stepped closer to him.

"It is you, isn't it?" she asked, although she knew the answer.

His expression turned from disbelieving to hostile in the span of a second.

"What are you doing here?" He spat out the words with barely concealed fury.

"I had just been to meet Susan. But I didn't know-"

"Tch," he cut her off, starting to walk away.

"I really didn't know, John," she called out after him.

"Don't pretend. You don't have to, anymore."

"I never did. I never lied to you, or pretended. I never could, because..." She stopped herself, realising they were still standing on the quiet Muggle street, even though it was empty except for the two of them.

John turned back to her. He didn't sound entirely convinced, but she knew he believed her, partly at least.

* * *

A few minutes later, they were sitting on the opposite sides of a small, out-of-the-way cafe, with a Muffliato around them.

"How did this happen?" Amelia asked cautiously, aware that she was treading dangerous waters.

"Augusta Longbottom was extremely kind to me, when I was sent to get her," he replied, with a short, cynical laugh. "Of course, it didn't matter to her that I was Confunded. Her or anyone else."

He sounded more bitter than she remembered. A War would do that of course. John Dawlish was incredibly loyal to the Ministry, but she knew he would have not done the things she had heard him accused of, unless he was under some spell.

She wondered how much trouble it would have been for Shacklebolt to keep her entirely unaware of any proceedings linked to John. There must have been a case, and a hearing but she hadn't even heard a whisper about it. She supposed the Minister thought it was for the better.

"I should've known you weren't at the hearing," he said, quietly. "They decided I wasn't good enough to own a wand or live in Magical Britain."

"What about St Mungo's? Couldn't they undo her spell?"

"I doubt they cared enough to, what with all the injured soldiers from the Light side. At least they healed the rest of my wounds."

Amelia knew he was right, and that he would have received a colder welcome than those siding against Voldemort, but it hurt her to hear him speak in that tone.

"If you went to a Potions Master who was skilled enough," she began, but he shook his head.

"I can't be in Magical Britain," he reminded, coldly.

She considered it for a moment before replying.

"I can."

* * *

"Why are you doing this? What do you want?" he asked for what must have been the hundredth time.

She sighed, flinching internally each time the questions were asked. It would seem he had lost nearly all faith in the Wizarding World. She poured the potion from the beaker to the small glass vial, and handed it to him.

"Drink," she ordered, though he knew the drill by now. He complied and emptied the vial.

Initially, she had spent a long time trying to find a counterspell. Libraries, manuscripts, she'd been through many texts. Eventually, she had followed her own advice, and gone to a Potions Master, a man who knew what it was like to be forced to be on the Dark side.

The concoction worked slowly but surely, and over a few days he had regained some of his sight. Nonetheless, he still remained distrustful of her.

It was jarring to Amelia, the contrast between how close they used to be, and where they were now. It was as though he expected her to poison him or turn him over to the ministry any moment. The War had changed so much, and she could never bring herself to adapt to all of it.

Sometimes, she wondered what would have happened if he had not accepted the position of the Minister's bodyguard, and stayed an Auror instead.

Other times, she would question her own decisions; whether she should have gone against the warnings and attempted to undo the obvious Confundus on him, which no one else could see for some reason, whether she had been right in not telling him sooner that she cared more than he thought she did.

So she decided to do her best to fix her mistakes, one day, when the darkness in front of his eyes had transformed into blurry shapes and lights.

"John," she began, slowly mustering up the courage to continue the sentence. He looked up from his breakfast, squinting slightly to see her face.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you," she continued. He looked a bit puzzled, but nodded.

"And I...I just wanted you to know that I love you. I have for a long time, and-" she blurted it out, blushing like a schoolgirl.

The expression on John's face conveyed relief and hope, calming Amelia's nerves. For the first time since she had met him on the street that day, he smiled that beautiful smile she remembered and loved.

* * *

 **Notes: Written for the 500 Different Pairings Challenge and the Phobias Competion**

 **Pairing: John Dawlish/Amelia Bones**

 **Prompt: Optophobia (I wrote about blindness)**

 **Word Count: 995**

 **This is not a pairing that I knew existed, so well... Hopefully I did justice to it!**


End file.
